Roses
by the-mpreg-spirit
Summary: Sirry. Au. Maybe ooc Finally united and living together, there's something still missing from both Harry and Sirius' lives. Their 'friends' finally decide to do something about it...
1. Ideas

_Thirteen across, another word for a female kneazle._

Sirius thought to himself, sucking on the end of his quill and putting his feet up on the table, standing his chair on its two hind legs. A crash from near the door caused him to look up suddenly and his newspaper went flying as he lost his balance.

He rubbed his head and scowled at Harry, who stumbled into the room a few seconds later.

"Just because you've got a hangover, why do I have to suffer for it as well?"

"Oh shut up," Harry grumbled, holding his head and sitting down in the chair across from him.

"Think you can handle breakfast?"

Harry nodded slowly and Sirius abandoned his newspaper, fetching four eggs from the fridge. "Last night was great, wasn't it? We should have a house warming party every week!"

"I thought you said it was going to be a small party."

Sirius didn't take his head out of the fridge as he answered, "It was. Where's the milk?"

"Sirius, I only knew four people."

"What's your point?"

Harry sighed.

"Never mind." His head was still throbbing and he groaned.

Sirius, who had been pouring too much milk into the scrambled eggs, put down the carton and approached his godson. He put a hand on his forehead, frowning worriedly.

"Is it that bad?" Harry nodded.

"Why don't you go back to bed? I'll bring a tray up."

Harry shook his head, dislodging the hand, and stood up.

"It's okay. I'm meeting Hermione in a half hour anyway." He was about to leave when he felt Sirius's hand on his shoulder. He turned around and was hugged tightly by his godfather, who still towered over him.

"What was that for?" he asked as he was let go. Sirius twitched and didn't answer for a moment.

"Just because… Do I need a reason to hug you?"

After a goodbye, in which Sirius still seemed oddly quiet, Harry left, soon forgetting about the hug.

* * *

Hermione herself had only started her first job and didn't have very much income, staying in a flat about half the size of Harry and Sirius'. Neither mentioned this as they settled onto the small couch with tea in cups she had received from her mother after her parents' death.

Harry took a drink from his cup as she prattled on about Arithmancy and how fascinating work was. She finally stopped for a breath.

"You and Sirius were looking pretty cosy last night."

He nearly choked, burning his throat.

"Cosy? What do you mean?" he said feeling somewhat nervous about what she was going to say. She smiled, reaching out a hand and clasping his.

"I know, Harry."

"Know what?"

"It's perfectly normal. And you're of age, so technically he doesn't count as your guardian anymore."

"Does he know?" Harry blushed.

"I don't think so…"

* * *

"Sirius? Are you okay?"

Sirius, who seemed to be daydreaming, looked up at Remus. The werewolf gave a small smile.

"Is it Harry again?"

"Yeah."

"Does he know that you were sober last night?"

"No, though I don't think he remembers much of it anyway."

"How can he not remember? You told him that you love him."

"He was drunk."

"Ah."

* * *

"Well he had his arm around your shoulder pretty much the whole night."

"He did?" Harry looked somewhat hopeful. Hermione nodded at her friend's stunned look.

"Do you think he…" he trailed off, though Hermione knew what he meant.

"I'm not sure. But you'll never know if you don't try." Harry didn't answer and they went back to their tea.

"Hermione… how?"

Hermione smiled. She'd been hoping he'd ask.

* * *

"Well, if that didn't work, why don't you show him?"

"And you would you propose I do what?"

"I have a few ideas…"

Sirius saw the gleam in Remus' eyes.

"Why do I get this weird feeling that I'm not going to like these 'ideas'?" Sirius said somewhat woefully.

* * *

Written for last year's Secret Sirry Santa, but it never made it past the Moderator, so I'm finally putting it up here. This is just part one. 

REVIEW


	2. plans

Looking at a page in the cookbook, Harry frowned before sniffing the air again. Was it supposed to smell like that?

Hermione had come up with the idea that he should cook dinner for Sirius and himself, prepare a romantic meal by candlelight. He had no idea at the time and still no idea now of how that would do anything, but had agreed to it anyway. But apparently after nearly seven years without cooking the Dursleys' breakfast, his cooking skills had disappeared without a trace. He was so busy trying to fix it, the spaghetti sauce starting to smoke, that he didn't see Sirius come through the door, a bouquet of roses in hand. He cursed loudly and heard a familiar laugh. Standing still, he turned slowly and saw Sirius smiling at him, his hands behind his back.

The grin disappeared as he sniffed the air.

"What's that horrible smell? Did something die in here?"

"I'm making dinner, if you need to ask," Harry replied indignantly and turned back to the pot. He felt Sirius come up next to him and nearly jumped out of his skin when the older man put a hand over his shoulder to get a closer look. The smoking had gotten worse and Harry coughed as it filled his lungs. He felt a jerking and Sirius pulled him back as a flame flared up exactly where his face was seconds before. The roses were dropped as both fled the room to avoid the fire.

* * *

Two hours later, both faces were red with shame as the Ministry Department of Emergencies left with disapproving looks. Using their wands to put it out hadn't occurred to either of them and they'd flooed the ministry in a panic. Both looked over the remains of their kitchen. By the time they'd got there to put it out, it had spread and they'd been told they were lucky they even had a home left. 

"I'm sorry Sirius, I never knew this would happen," Harry said for the fifth time since it had been put out. Sirius gave him a tired smile and shook his head.

"It doesn't matter, Harry. It could have happened to anyone, he said softly. "Do you want me to go out and get something? I think The Leaky Cauldron serves dinner around this time…"

"It's okay, I'm just going to go to bed anyway. Thanks for asking," he said and went into his room, closing he door behind him with one last smile at Sirius.

Looking at the charred remains once more, Sirius decided that he could clean it up in the morning. It was Sunday tomorrow and Harry would probably sleep late anyway. He sighed once more. It had taken him so long to actually buy those roses. First Remus had to convince him, saying Harry would know it was romantic because of his Muggle-upbringing, and then actually buying them.

He had the money, of course, but what if someone saw? Occasionally they would find a photograph of the two together in _The Daily Prophet._ The Wizarding World's obsession over their saviour and his recent defeat of Voldemort hadn't quite worn off yet. If he was caught buying them, they would know it was for Harry and there would be another flood of stories, every word of it rumours and lies

Eventually he'd convinced himself that it didn't matter. Everybody could know how he felt about Harry. As long as Harry knew it first, right? And if Remus was wrong and he didn't return his feelings…Well then there was nothing to be done but hide away ashamed for a few days and move on. He'd already lost sixteen years of his life to Azkaban and hiding. He wasn't going to spend the rest of his days brooding over it.

He knelt down by what used to be the stove and picked up a few burnt petals in his hand. Well, there's what fate thought of that gesture…


End file.
